Incentive to Breathe
by Dawrnit
Summary: There, on her front lawn, was Draco Malfoy, son of Death Eater extraordinaire, looking quite dead. A story of forgiveness and redemption, selfishness and selflessness, prejudice and tolerance, Hermione and Draco. What if love can't conquer all? On hiatus.
1. Chapter One: Penguins & Bunnies

**Disclaimer: **I am J. K. Rowling. I own Harry Potter and the whole darned crew. And that's exactly why I'm spending time writing fanfiction when I could just be producing an eighth book to make me even more richer than the darned Queen of England. I do hope you noted my sarcasm.

Chapter Completed: 20 June 2009

Word Count: 1063

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**Chapter One: Sunburned Penguins & Bunny Pyjamas**

_She was sprinting towards a hand outstretched towards her, a feeling of urgency clouding her senses. All her focus was on reaching the arm, grabbing the person who made no advancement to her. Her desperation overpowered her frustration in that she only seemed to be inching forwards no matter how fast she ran. But assuredly enough, she slowly closed the gap._

_She reached for it nearly diving for it. And as her fingers brushed the fingertips of the hand she began to fall. Scenery bolted by, as if on fast forward._

_Trees._

_Grass._

_Pillars._

_A stage._

Images flashed through Hermione's mind as she tossed and turned in her sleep, her legs entangled in the beige bedding, several pillows tossed to the floor. She woke suddenly and inhaled deeply, clearing her raging mind. Closing her eyes, she attempted to settle into a comfortable position to return to sleep. Unfortunately, her attempts were thwarted and she sat up, prepared to start the day. Stifling a yawn as she stretched, she glanced at the egg white digital clock sitting on her dresser, blaring the numbers 2:49 at her in neon green numbers, and cursed inwardly both at the ridiculously early hour and her inability to return to sleep.

She swung her legs over the bedside, and padded to the window, drawing aside the heavy silver brocade curtain. She glanced at the full moon and smiled at the clear sky, her disdain over waking so early quickly dissipating. Her desire to open the window to the cool night air compelled her to open said window and as she glanced outwards onto her lawn her disdain returned full blast, accompanied with shock and confusion.

There, on her front lawn, was Draco Malfoy, son of Death Eater extraordinaire, looking quite dead if the blood and seemingly comatose state were anything to go by.

A sharp breath of air and she was gone, rushing out her house, towards the deathly pale blond taking a nap on her lawn.

* * *

Hermione glanced at the ashen form atop her formerly white sofa. Having perceived the fact that he was in a critical condition, she had already sent for Dumbledore a few minutes previous. Twenty minutes ago, the blonde ferret had been on her lawn. Those twenty minutes felt like twenty seconds and twenty hours at the same time. Well, that didn't really seem coherent or logical. But having an arch rival from school—whose father tried to kill your friends and you a few months previous—show up on your lawn half dead didn't make much sense either.

To be honest, the resident Gryffindor queen thought she handled the situation rather well. After pocketing his wand, she had scanned his body for injuries with her wand, the tip emitting an orange glow and a gentle hum when hovering above damaged spots. Considerably disastrous, it was awash in orange for a great majority of the examination and hummed so much you would've thought her wand was composing a song.

Realizing the unlikelihood of him awaking any time soon, she had opted not to petrify him as it might have caused further injury. She levitated him through the doorway of her house and up to her room where he now lay on her sofa.

Acknowledging the reality that she could do nothing but wait for Dumbledore's aid, she took the opportunity to examine him. He wore black trousers, a black shirt, and a black cloak—all of which were tattered and addled with mud. It was ill-timed humour, but she snorted at his outfit's resemblance to Snape's wardrobe. It was highly doubtful that the loathsome potions professor stocked anything else in his closet. His choice of clothing was, lamentably, not the extent of their similarities. The prejudiced blonde sported a broken nose to rival Severus' complimented by the caked blood along the crown of his head. Gashes and bruises littered all of his visible skin, not a square inch being smooth and untainted. His breathing was shallow and laboured. His hair lay in a disheveled mess that vied with Harry's own with a stringy quality similar to Filch's. Conclusively, Hermione Granger realized one thing: Draco Malfoy looked quite a mess.

Her strange and bizarre sense of humour decided to reappear as she recalled an old riddle. What's black and white and red all over? There were the usual answers: a zebra painted red, a newspaper, a sunburned penguin, and so on and so forth. But if at the moment someone were to ask her that question, she'd only have one reply. Draco Malfoy. She chortled at the bad joke and simultaneously scolded herself for being so lax about the obviously pained boy.

A few minutes later, she heard the familiar sound of the floo and watched her headmaster step out, dusting himself off and carrying quite a sense of urgency. He was bedecked in what looked like bunny footsie pyjamas, complete with bunny ears replacing his usual pointed hat. It was a stark contrast to the serious expression upon his face. Hermione's eye twitched.

Not bothering with immediate pleasantries, he strode to Draco and began healing him, that ever present damned twinkle had vanished for the time being. Sparks flew from his wand and the lacerations began to heal, as if being knit together by an unseen force. Suddenly, she was startled when she heard a loud crack, most likely his rib being set in place.

As Dumbledore continued healing him, questions and scenarios developed within her mind. What had happened to the reigning pureblood supremacist of Slytherin? Why had he been on her lawn? Where were his parents? Who had done such a vicious act?

His appearance spoke miles about the cruelty that was bestowed upon and him. And Hermione cringed knowing the extent of his internal system was, presumably, in a much worse state. Magical attacks often targeted more serious places after all, more efficient that way.

His never-ending taunting of her heritage throughout the years had caused her to develop a strong dislike for the snarky teen, but she couldn't help but pity the horrendous plight he obviously had gone through—not even being the complete foul-mouthed bigoted person he was. But, although she felt pity, a thick blanket of curiosity had settled around her and nestled her questions. He was an enigma. She loved challenges.

And assuredly enough, Draco Malfoy was currently quite the puzzle.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, my first fanfiction! Well, kind of my first....I tried once a few years back and failed spectacularly. So here I am again, hoping to write a decent fanfic worthy of your reading pleasure. Although it may be displeasure for others. I know this first chapter is extremely short, but I'm testing the waters first. You know? Feeling how my writing comes across and whatnot. Don't worry though, I plan to gradually increase chapter length till I can pop 'em out at least 2500 words at a time. Please point out any grammar errors I've committed(I'm positive I probably have, just can't locate them) and I'll be sure to correct them. I completely enjoy constructive criticism more than anything, it'll help me make this a better story for you! So till next time. c;


	2. Chapter Two: Undies & Cobbler

**Disclaimer:** Dee dee doo, I'm not you-know-who.

Chapter Completed: 23 June 2009

Chapter Word Count: 1353

Story Word Count: 2416

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**Chapter Two: Polka Dot Underwear & Peach Cobbler**

As Dumbledore finished healing the comatose Slytherin, Hermione plopped herself upon a navy blue armchair and he sat atop an identical one across from her.

"Will he be alright, sir?" she inquired, eyebrows furrowed. She was a compassionate person, and even though he made her want to slap him like she had in their third year, she hoped for his well being.

The headmaster sighed and glanced towards her, "Alas, young Mr. Malfoy's been exposed to quite a few dark curses and most likely a few potions as well. I'll have Severus and Poppy take a look at him."

Taking the non-verbal cue to change topics, Hermione asked, "How are you going to get him to Hogwarts? I mean, obviously you can't side-apparate, not in his condition. He must be nearly six feet and that's a tad too tall to fit through the floo. A portkey, then?"

Dumbledore chuckled at the bright girl drew his hand. He waved it about a bit and muttered several words—none of which Hermione could catch—and pointed to her front door. She watched perplexedly as it began to take on a strange green glow; it was floo green, in fact.

"Ah, well I must be leaving now. I'm sad to say the visit couldn't have been on pleasanter terms." The wizened wizard then stood, brushing invisible lint off his bunny pyjamas, and levitating Draco.

"Ms. Granger, the door please."

"Oh! Right..." Hermione quickly shuffled to the door and opened it. Surprisingly enough—or unsurprisingly depending on who you ask—on the other side of the threshold was not her front lawn, but Hogwarts infirmary.

She watched as her arch-rival-ish was then levitated through and set upon an infirmary bed. The wizard to defeat Grindelwald following, a fluffy bunny tail on his backside.

Dumbledore stepped through the doorway and closed it. "Goodnight, Ms. Granger."

The Gryffindor waved as he closed the door, boggled at the events of the night. Thank goodness her parents were visiting relatives for the weekend. After all, it'd be rather hard to explain a half-dead classmate, a doorway leading somewhere it should not, and the headmaster in bunny pyjamas.

As the adrenaline rush wore off, Hermione ambled up the stairs, promptly collapsing atop her bed. That night, or rather what was left of it, she dreamt not of hands she could never reach, but of gray bunnies playing with white zombie ferrets.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since that odd night, and although it still troubled her mind, Hermione had set the Malfoy incident to the back burners of her mind. Currently, she focused on the Weasley entourage besides her. The Hogwarts Express stood before them in all it's fine glory. Fred, George, Molly, and Arthur were seeing them off to another year at Hogwarts. She smiled fondly as Mrs. Weasley fussed over her children, Harry and herself included.

"Ginny, did you remember your—?"

"In the trunk."

"What about you Ron? Your cauldron?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Your robes?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Toothbrush?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Ronald Weasley! Don't you dare roll your eyes at me young man!" Fred and George guffawed as their little brother was scolded by the Weasley matriarch. She could be quite scary at times.

"Hermione, did you remember—" Molly sighed, remembering who she was speaking to. "Why, of course you did. You always double check everything on that list of yours."

Ron snickered at Hermione's OCD qualities; Harry, on the other hand, knew better.

She scoffed. "Says he who forgot his underwear last year."

It was Harry's turn to snicker as Ron's face turned stop light red, recalling last year's misfortune. It had been on the first day of classes, when halfway through breakfast, the family owl swooped in and ceremoniously dropped a package with a letter attached upon his bacon. He opened the letter, unaware that it had been charmed to read aloud. The entire school then heard of the story of his forgotten "undies". Oh, the embarrassment.

Fred and George glanced at each other mischievously and grinned, after all, they were the ones to charm the letter. Ah, their seventh year had been great. Well, sans the evil Umbridge lady and all that nonsense.

The Hogwarts Express whistled signalling the train's departure in 9¾ minutes. It was common belief that the whistle signified a ten minute warning, but our resident Gryffindor bookworm knew better. After all, it was in Hogwarts: A History.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley bid the children goodbye as they boarded the train, promises to write being passed on. Fred and George surreptitiously handed each of them a small square package, no bigger than a ring box.

When Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione found an empty compartment, they stowed their luggage and examined the parcels given to them. Harry's was wrapped in paper with little snitches all over and a little tag saying: 'These snitches are _not_ edible.' Inside lay the latest snacks in their Skiving Snackboxes line and a package of gummy Dark Marks. Harry smiled at the twins' humour.

Ron's, of course, had pictures of underwear, his own polka dot ones and the note read: 'We charmed the letter.' Nested within, were a trick wand and several edible slugs. For the second time that day, Ron's face became a fiery colour, though the cause was anger instead.

Ginny's had little quaffles and upon her paper, 'Stay away from Corner boys,' was scrawled. Dwelling there was one of the boys' latest creations: Pretty Perfume for the Picky Witch—Repels the Bad Ones, Enchants the Good. She snorted at her brothers' oddities and their intense dislike for her former boyfriend.

Hermione's was packaged in newspaper, the scribble stating: 'An article about the harmful effects of over studying.' Perched in the box were a speciality quill enchanted to take notes and a bundle of hot pink candies. One of WWW's best-selling products, the little tablets were Patented Daydream Charms. Hermione grimaced at the boys' intent. Really now, she couldn't deviate from her school work too much.

After they examined one another's gifts, they quickly fell into an amiable conversation about their summer as the Hogwarts Express carried them to their sixth—though in Ginny's case, fifth—year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

"These lot sure are midgets," Ron casually observed.

"Oh, be quiet Ron. You weren't quite the giant in our first year." Hermione pointed out.

Ron frowned. "Well, I don't remember ever being that short."

"Nope, you were shorter," Harry grinned. "Hermione was taller than you that year."

Scowling Ron muttered some unintelligible words and returned to his food. Hermione giggled at Ron's childish qualities. Honestly, some things would never change; Ron was one of those. Oh, now don't misunderstand. Ron had matured over the years, but in a....slow way. His emotional range had travelled from that of a teaspoon to that of a cup! Quite amazing actually. She had held a torch for the youngest male Weasley for quite some time, but during the summer she had realized that she couldn't wait for him forever. Because no matter how greatly she desired for their unresolved tension to be resolved, the fact still stood that she was leaps and bounds ahead of him in maturity. It was quite calming when she had that particular epiphany.

As Ron continued attacking the pudding with relish and Harry ate his own in a docile manner, Hermione's gaze wandered to the Slytherin table. She quickly scanned for the familiar platinum hair. He wasn't there.

Oddly disappointed not to see the pale person, she glanced at the choices around her. Strawberry cheesecake, several flavours of ice cream, cookies of all sorts, German chocolate cake, she couldn't find her love! Pouting, Hermione continued her ardent search for her favourite dessert. She happily squealed in her mind as she spotted the peach cobbler. Taking a piece and a scoop of vanilla ice cream to compliment the baked and gooey treat, she dug in. She was happily chewing away, unaware of the events in the infirmary.

* * *

**A/N: **FRIGGADER! I already had wrote half of this chapter several hours earlier and had to leave for lessons. Being the idiot I was, I didn't save my progress. The results, you ask? I have rewrite the whole damned thing. What a poo-poo face. Oh, by the way, for all intents and purposes of the story, Sirius never died during their fifth year. He's much alive and kicking it in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. So Harry's whole emo phrase will never appear in my story. OotP Harry was really annoying. Ah, well, I hope you noted that this chapter was around 300 words longer! So as a thanks to me, you should....Review! c:


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